White are the Waves
by You Are The Storm
Summary: Five rivers, five lives. Percy Jackson's fate was never one for mediocrity. A hero and a warrior, a scholar and a wise man, the darkness and the devil itself. War is coming, Death has been missing for millennia. The entire universe hangs in the balance and only one man can save it. White are the Waves
1. Story Intro

Greetings Fan fiction readers!

The purpose of this is to attempt to keep you all updated on my writings, and more importantly what's in them.

First off, I have decided that I wish to go in a different direction with "In Another Life: Nameless." And because I am an avid believer that one should never begin a new story until they finish the old one, I have taken that story down.

Now, before I get any angry complaints. Give my new story a read, and if you still want Nameless back, just let me know in the reviews and I will repost it separately. Possibly, in the future I will consider rewriting that and continuing.

Here comes the tribute part of the story.

For ages I have been a huge fan of the author Svren's story Blackened Dawn.(Which everyone should go read)

It is certainly the best fan fiction I have ever read on this site. I have nothing but admiration and respect for the plot and writing style. In this story I will be taking some elements from Blackened Dawn, not directly. I'm not one to plagiarize. But I'm trying to take his idea and make it my own. The plot we be most similar in the beginning and will grow into its own thing over time.

After all, It was that story that inspired me to write.

So please, read, enjoy, review. Let me know any critiques or things I could improve on.

Thank You

You Are The Storm

P.S. - If the first chapter doesn't make total sense...good. Not all of us speak the language of the insane


	2. Chapter 1

**Part 1: Beginnings**

* * *

There's a point out there, a point where hate and anger are forgotten.

A place where revenge is meaningless, and love is a nonentity.

The lines of reality blur together in such a extent that you find yourself in a unexplainable form of clarity, of clairvoyance.

You're agendas fade away, dissipating into the cold wind.

_(you're going insane)_

All of your past dreams-wants-desires erode away into the darkness, and you find yourself accomplishing the things you were born to do.

You simplistically strive for the one thing the fates placed at the core of your soul.

You are losing yourself

_(isn't that what he was made for? Born to die?) _

insanity is fickle, curious even, preferring to pick on the strong, the incorruptible.

Is not insanity just a side effect of greatness?

They say that to be insane is to do the same thing over and over and expect different results. that one truly insane will never realize his mental state.

Don't legend and insanity walk hand in hand?

We tell the same stories of men no more righteous than ourselves over and over, glorifying their weaknesses and faults. Calling them heroes, even after their own shortcomings are their downfall.

They say legend is only a lie that has attained the dignity of age. Yet we proclaim that legends never die.

Is this not insane?

* * *

_the weight of the world is on my shoulders. White are the waves._

* * *

For as long as he could remember, a weight had been pressed on his shoulders. Whether it be the weight of Gabe's fists on his back, or the pressure of having to save the world each year since he was twelve, he knew what it meant to carry the world on his shoulders. A fraction of what he had undergone would be enough to make most men crack, and yet he was only sixteen.

Percy had always believe that after the war, he would find rest. It was a belief that he had to have, he must have hope that he might find peace. That one day, if he fought hard enough, he could protect the ones he loved and truly be happy.

That day had come, Kronos was defeated, Annabeth was his new girlfriend, everything was perfect.

Why didn't he feel any different?

It was too much, the weight. He was a fool to think that it would simply go away.

The Styx had broken something, his swim possessed a strange feeling of finalization. Like jumping in meant any chance of a normal life was gone.

_(he watched the irreparable glass shatter, asking himself is he was still sane__)_

Was this how Achilles felt?

Hindsight being 20/20, he could trace it back to a single moment.

Despite the good that happened after, one moment marked the beginning of the end.

As he closed his eyes on his birthday, mere hours after defeating the Titans, Percy Jackson died

* * *

Of course, it didn't happen immediately. Insanity is a process. For the first few weeks he was still naïve enough to think of this as a temporary feeling, just the stress of the war washing out of his system.

He was _happy_, he had Annabeth. And he told himself that not even the shroud ceremony could bring him down. He tried to be positive, Annabeth told him not to blame himself for things he could not prevent. He would listen to her, he would mourn fallen heroes, but he would not carry the burden of their deaths.

But as he watched them burn, he swore he could feel the flames. Pain coursed through his diaphragm as each body burned, every flame a reminder of his inadequacy. Of his weakness.

He let his friends die.

The campers watched with sad, sympathetic eyes as their hero sprinted to his cabin, his horrified screams painting the valley in gruesome song.

* * *

_in his dreams, he could see them. they stood on the far bank of the River Styx, red smiles painting their faces. the called out to him "come brother, come friend". their eyes told a different tale, they waited for him. they waited to slit his throat and throw him to the dogs._

* * *

It began, as most things do, with the little things. Food no longer appetized him, at least not in the way it used to. He wasn't his usual joyful self, no longer enjoying spending time with his friends. Annabeth was the exception, she was his connection to the world. Literally and figuratively.

Annabeth noticed the change in his attitude immediately, he told her he was tired from the battle, that he wanted to rest. Percy had never lied to her, and the words tasted like acid on his lips. Quickly he hid his lie, pulling her in for a chaste, empty kiss.

The others were easier, when they to began to realize something was off about him, he said he was resting. Taking time to look at the world around him now that he had time to sit back and look. They hung onto his worlds like starving dogs, eating up his lies and believing them wholeheartedly.

Come on, he was _Percy Jackson_, nothing could possibly hurt him.

Funny, they called him the oblivious one.

If anyone had taken a second to _look_, truly look, he may have been able to get help. To save himself.

His pedestal stopped him, he was a hero now. A warrior with such unquestionable power that the other campers watched with awe as he passed, marveling at the one who fought titans and gods. So soon after war, the camp needed a strong role model to look to, he fit the position.

Is it ironic that in the end, it was Annabeth's fatal flaw, not his, that became his downfall?

_(does that make him better than the legends?)_

He had _power_ now, Percy was the king of the camp, children looked at him like he was a god. Knowing he could become one anytime he wished. The camp placed Percy Jackson on a pedestal so high that he didn't not know if he didn't leap down simply because he didn't want to or because would likely land and die.

Of course, he knew the answer, power felt good. Before, he had never dreamt of power, but now...

Was power worth death? Was glory worth his soul?

The Styx made him powerful, unmatchable, unstoppable. But the Styx broke him, and he was only beginning to realize how much of a fool he really was. How naïve he had been his whole life.

In the center of his chest, a searing pain roared. The spot was cold to the touch, but to Percy it felt as is the sun itself was burning his skin.

Somehow, Percy knew why this pain haunted him, primal instinct told him.

Something was missing.

_(he wondered if it was his soul)_

Deep down he knew the answer.

* * *

_he looked up towards the surface, annabeth with her hand outstretched, beckoning him to grab it. "C'mon seaweed brain, I didn't even push you that hard." he smiled as she pulled him into the canoe, he felt light, happy. to happy... __he looked down as the blade pierced his skin, the scene changed, and he realized that there never was a lake. Annabeth had pulled him into hell, to the far bank of the River. where the wolves waited for him. _

_he turned to meet annabeth's beautiful, smiling face. her hands held the sword that pierced his body. _

_she stabbed him with his own sword..._

_hands, thousands of cold, grimy hands gripped him, dragging him down...lower and lower. _

_Annabeth's eyes flared gold. _

_"hello hero, welcome to hell"_

* * *

They say that the first step of madness is when you begin to talk to your own head.

If that was the case, Percy really was going insane. He rarely talked to anyone anymore, other than himself that is, and he purposely avoided Annabeth. Alone, he would spend hours at the beach, hurling stone after stone into the water.

The other campers began to realize something was seriously wrong. They appointed a person every night to wake Percy from his nightmare. Not for his sake, but for the camps. His screams would echo through the valley endlessly until he was woken.

Once he was shaken from sleep, Percy rarely went back to bed, preferring to sit and stare into the shadows. The darkness began to feel more and more like home to him, like the shadows were the same as ocean.

He began to lose hope that this was a phase, a temporary thing. He started to question if he would ever get better.

Sometimes, in the cool air of the night, he would press riptide into his skim, harder and harder. Trying to penetrate his impenetrable skin. Sonner or later, the blade slipped off and he collapsed in exhaustion and frustration.

In the darkness, he began to hear voices. Screams, whispers, names he'd never heard of spoken by voices he'd never met. For some reason, he felt like he should know them.

When they spoke, the fire in his chest burned hotter, as if they longed for the familiarity of the voices.

In many ways, they were worse than the nightmares.

* * *

_"I don't like this man, its wayy to dark in here. we shouldn't be doing this"_

_"Goddamnit! we talked about this! no cold feet! _

_"i know, I know. its just... don't you think the primordial's will notice if we take gold from their treasury? _

_"Of course they will stupid, but we'll be long gone by then. those fools have their noses so far up Chaos' ass that they wont notice for days. besides, its not like they need the money anyway. _

_"Well I think you're underestimating them. shit ned! there's no fucking light in here! we need to leave now, you know who lives in the dark!"_

_"Erebus? of the darkness? pleaseee, even he cant be in all places at once. I tell ya man, of all the primordial's, I hate him most. _

_"Quiet ned, you shouldn't speak of them in such ways."_

_"why not? what's he gonna do to me? he's all hype, an act. i'd love to see his face when he realizes we too-"_

_"Ned? where are you man? oh shit! there's blood everywhere. ned! ned! he's here! oh crap, please, please have mercy. no no no no no no no no no no no no no! I don't want to die! please! EREBUS, have mercy! no n-"_

* * *

He got a brother one day, a brother named Robert.

Nice kid, inexperienced and naïve, but nice enough. The kicker was that he was fifteen, two years over when he should have been claimed. Before all of this, when Percy was still that naïve little child, he never would've thought twice about something like this. But now the darker side of his mind ran rampant, causing paranoia and suspicion.

Why would Poseidon keep his son hidden so long? Especially when there was a war going on.

Send one son to die, at least I have one left over.

As much as Percy wanted to hate him, he couldn't bring himself too. Somewhere, deep down, the ability to love, to care was still their.

Robert and himself became fast friends. Percy showed him the ropes of camp, even getting him out of his "initiation" with Clarisse. Robert was...special. He far surpassed Percy in the intelligence department, showing in early interest in the history and literature of the Greek language.

Needless to say, after Percy, Annabeth was his best friend.

Percy's conditions improved extraordinarily, he was more social, laughing and playing with friends. The nightmares stopped, and with them, the voices. The camp was relieve to have their hero back.

Percy learned to be a person again, and like he did with every Titan, monster, or god that crossed him, he beat insanity back with a bronze sword.

* * *

"The greatest trick the devil ever played on the world was to convince it he didn't exist."

That may be true, but the devil had never been more tangible to Percy Jackson than it was now, he'd met his devils. Played with his demons.

It was certainly disheartening, he had been doing so _well_. The arrival of his brother had created a positive change in him, and everyone believed the worst had passed. Percy could even remember feeling absolutely overjoyed when Chiron announced that a school would be instituted at camp.

He wouldn't have to go back to the mortals.

That had all changed, his happiness had turned to ashes in his mouth.

Battle was brewing, the Hyperborean giants of the north marched towards the camp, angry that so many of their brethren had been killed in the Titan war. They never were the smartest breed.

The news crushed Percy. _More _battles,_ more _wars. More bloodshed.

Red painted his vision, he wanted to kill the gods. Death to those who would impose this fate on him.

His anger was diminished as the world compressed itself onto his shoulders.

Rapidly, he got worse. The nightmares returned, leaving his eyes baggy and his back slouched in exhaustion. He lost his desire for human interaction, and began to consider ending it with Annabeth. It wasn't fair for her to have a mental boyfriend.

And the voices...the voices had never been louder.

* * *

_I've lived a good life Thanatos, I think I should like to rest_

* * *

The others were so ignorant, basking in naivety.

They thought, that because they had defeated Kronos, that made him weak.

They were fools, none of them fought him, none felt the sting of his scythe. Percy was the only one, the only one when truly knew what it felt like to look into those golden eyes.

Sure, they had won, beaten him. But Kronos was a _Titan_, the ruler of the domain that transcends everything. He was anything but weak.

Time is everything to a mortal, it is the very thing that makes a mortal, well...mortal.

Most, would insist that to be mortal meant that one was able to die. But that's false, to be mortal means that one day, everyone _must_ die, sooner or later time catches up. One day, everyone runs out of time.

Time drives us, the knowledge that at any second we could run out of time is what pushes humans to do more than simply exist. We get out of bed when it is time to get up. We eat when its meal time.

Humans are basic creatures, craving simple things. And deep down, every mortal knows that they only have a certain amount of time to get what they want.

They want love. They want money. They want fame. Sex. Glory. Power.

In the end, humans only want one thing. To _feel, _if only for one moment. They murder and climb over each others writhing bodies for one pure second of feeling. They wish to feel invincible, in control, masters of their own fate. Every man wants to feel immortal.

No one enjoys knowing that one day they must die.

_(all percy wanted was gabe to stop, stop hitting him. he just wanted everyone to be safe_)

Every human feels the drive to do something with their lives.

Percy didn't

This was the Titans curse to him, to be unaffected by time. His life passed by him in blurry images, was day was today? How much time had passed? Who the hell was he?

Why did everything hurt so bad?

With everything else gone, all he had was his pain.

He wept. For how long? He didn't know.

* * *

Time passed, it meant nothing to him.

He couldn't remember what he did in his day. Or what a day was.

All he could think about was how his chest burned and ached, hotter every day. The only sounds to reach his ears were that of the voices, long and far off. And yet, so tangible, so familiar.

Someone yanked him up. Where is he? What's going on?

Green eyes, red auras, coins exchanging hands.

_(For thirty pieces of silver, Judas betrayed Jesus himself)_

He felt nothing but, hands?

He couldn't move, couldn't breath...

Something held him down on a cold table, splinters of (metal?) digging into his bare back.

He could feel again, for a split second.

But all he felt was fear...

And the knife, he certainly felt the knife as it pierced his skin.


	3. Chapter 2

_Wherever you are, just know that I'm sorry. I'm sorry we all failed you._

* * *

**Rachel**

Rachel had always been one for moments.

The moment she relished the first picture she had ever painted, she knew she would be an artist.

She knew she would never support her fathers business the moment she watched the first tree come down.

The moment her eyes met Percy Jackson's for the first time, deep in the bowels of the Hoover Dam, she knew they were connected.

Of course she was right, he showed her a whole new world. The real world.

And it was in a single moment that Rachel realized she would never be with Percy, their fates were connected, but not tied together.

Without Percy, she had no connection, no stake in the world of gods and monsters.

She had to become the Oracle, to cement herself in this new frontier.

Today was glorious, the Titans were defeated, she hadn't died tying to merge with the spirit of the Oracle, and Percy was alive. She even found herself slightly happy for Annabeth when they eavesdropped on the little "scene" at the dining pavilion.

The camp crowed the dock, pushing against each other and laughing. Annabeth and Percy didn't resurface and it didn't take long for the others to realize what exactly was going on down in the lake.

She decided that she could be supportive of Percy and Annabeth, she knew she couldn't control everything. Rachel was an artist, and realized that the final piece does not always look as envisioned.

She just hoped Percy would be happy. His childhood had been robbed form him long ago, and yet he still possessed a childlike spirit, she hoped that hadn't been destroyed by war.

Their relationship was special, because Rachel had been one of his only friends in the mortal war. She'd seen firsthand what the weight of his responsibilities had done to him. The stress, the fear. He wasn't quite as invincible as everyone thought he was.

Although...he's came darn close.

The pair resurfaced, smiles upon their faces.

The camp cheered.

They looked so happy, so relieved and excited. Peaceful.

And yet, the glint in Percy's eye was gone, leaving it dull and fully without the usual unique mirth they possessed. She dismissed it as a trick of the light.

_(One must look behind the eyes to see the truth)_

She mused, walking back to the Big House. Percy will be happy, he has Annabeth now. And Zeus knows that if anyone can keep that boy in line, its Annabeth Chase.

Still, she was paranoid. Call it intuition, or the spirit of Delphi whispering to her, she feared for Percy, and she didn't know why.

For as long as she'd known about his life, she'd known he was a fighter. You don't accomplish that much without fighting your little heart out. Percy never gave up, and that's why you cant ever count him out.

Her fear, was that it would become to much. She knew Percy's soul, his heart, would never quit. Never give in. But she worried for his body, his mind.

Almost dying all the time takes a toll, sooner or later, you're mind just can't take it anymore. The horrors you've seen and the death's you've watched eat you from the inside and you're forced to give up.

Unknown to Rachel, Percy dreams that night. The first nightmare of many.

He's not the only one, in her room, Rachel thrashes restlessly on the bed, the Oracle flooding her mind with things to come. And she _knows_, she knows that all of her fears will come true. She knows Percy's fate, his life...his lives. She's more connected to the son of Poseidon than she ever had been before.

And she cant do anything, she cant help him. She's forced to watch the one who showed her everything, a new world and her calling.

In that moment, she knew she would watch him destroy himself.

* * *

**Grover**

He waited around three days, just long enough for everyone to get resettled and the funeral ceremony to commence.

He was happier than ever before. Grover Underwood...Lord of the Wild.

He stayed at camp for three days, and then he was off to Washington state. Typhon had managed to destroy just about half the country during his trek to Olympus, and Grover planned to personally lead satyrs and nature spirits in replanting the forests that were.

It was symbolic, he was expected to lead the spirits of Nature as a new Lord of the Wild. He planned to get started quickly. They would follow Typhon's path across the country, celebrating the gods victory, and reviving desolate places.

He received the first Iris message just as he was arriving in Washington, from Annabeth. She said that Percy was acting weird, not like himself at all. She wanted to know if he felt anything, because..you know, the empathy link.

When he told her he knew nothing she was visually disappointed, he promised to return soon.

A week later, Chiron called. The desperation in his eyes was obvious. He too, asked the same question, and received the same answer. Chiron said he sensed something wrong with Percy, something serious. Something never seen before. '_I do not like this dear satyr. Something terrible is about to happen.'_

The third time, it was Grover who called. Annabeth looked wearier than before, less positive. Percy had always experienced terrible nightmares, but the way she described his screams...that had never happened before.

He knew where he was supposed to be, he should go to his best friend. Percy wouldn't hesitate to drop everything if Grover was ever in need.

He didn't go, the nature spirits and himself were in the Midwest, halfway through their journey. He couldn't bring himself to leave, not when he was finally on top.

More Iris messages. He didn't answer, swiping his hand through the Mist as soon as it appeared. He supposed he felt guilty, he'd always been one to blame himself for everything. Not now though, he didn't fell nearly as guilty now. He felt selfish, a feeling that was foreign to him.

He liked it.

He was important now, A Lord of the Wild. He had _responsibilities. _Thinking about himself a little was something he could afford now.

He didn't contact camp again.

* * *

Chiron had always seemed perfect to him. An ageless mentor with millennia's of knowledge and wisdom.

His mindset was changed. Grover walked into the Big House, late in the night, hours after he had arrived back in New York.

Mr. D chased the old centaur around the living room, catching pictures and different trinkets as the fell of their respective wall or shelf. Chiron just kept knocking them off, mumbling something ineligible under his breath.

His voice rang out. What's going on? What has happened

"Hhaha you silly satyr. Don't you now? He's gone. He's gone. Poor boy."

Grover tensed, bile rising in his throat as his mind made the connections. "Who's gone?"

It couldn't be.

He killed his best friend, self righteousness killed the greatest demigod of the era.

"OHh youuu goat you...PErcy Jackson, he's goneee."

Grover can practically taste the alcohol on his breath.

* * *

**Sally **

Paul's arms were comforting, gentle.

They didn't hold the raw power and strengths that Poseidon's did all those years ago, but they were soothing.

How long had it been? Since the Empire State Building had lit up blue? She'd felt so relieved, he baby was safe.

Now, all she could do was worry.

The camp was keeping her updated on Percy's condition, and as much as it pained her not to be able to see him, it was a mutual decision that he should not be removed from the magical borders.

So what could she do? How could she help her son at this distance.

She prayed

She'd never looked at the gods as figures she should pray to or worship. Mainly because of her relationship with Poseidon. He had treated her as an equal, and she didn't pray.

She fell to her knees, day after day, praying to every god, spirit, or deity that would listen.

"Help my son! Please, please help my son!"

Chiron updated her, Percy wasn't getting any better. He barely left his bed now, sitting in the dark. Drifting in and out of consciousness.

Just the thought of her son, cold and empty, left her in tears.

What did he do to deserve this?

Chiron Iris messaged her one last time, Percy was gone.

Disappeared. Dissipated into mist. No one knew where he went.

She fell to her knees to pray, but only sobs crawled out of her throat.

* * *

**Annabeth**

Annabeth planned, it was her nature. Something she was literally born with.

She hadn't planned what happened during the battle. Not even her mother could have controlled something that chaotic. Especially when Kronos and Percy of all people were involved.

She did plan, however, on winning. She believed in the power of hope, and refused the believe that the fates would be so cruel to doom the entire human race by letting the Titans win.

She even planned on getting together with Percy. She loved him, and had for a long time. Who cares if they were still too young to ever hope for a lasting relationship? They'd fought- no - they'd _won_ a war together. She'd planned the cake fiasco, and was even aware that the campers would eavesdrop. She new that Percy was...just so Percy that he'd never turn her down. Even if he was the most oblivious person alive.

It had been a long time since she had seen him so happy. Her memory wandered back to their first summer together, just after they had recoved the lghtinging bolt. Two twelve year olds and a satyr running around giggling without a care in the world.

What went wrong? What _happened _to them?

Grover was gone, who knows where.

The war was over, and none of that peace them was promised them was present.

And Percy. Percy was...was...

She refused to think the word. The think it would be to acknowledge its truth.

Her arrow whizzed past the target. A complete miss. She hadn't made a single shot since Percy melted down the second time.

Robert's shot thudded into the bull's-eye. Even though he was hurting as much as she was, he'd, managed to retain his sharp mind and plethora of skills. It was understandable, he and Percy were close. But they had only met a few weeks ago.

Honestly, she didn't know how Robert did it, Zeus knows he hadn't had a full night sleep in ages. Every night Percy freaked out just a little bit earlier.

This was supposed to be their therapy of sorts. Mr. D was insistent that Percy could not be moved into the infirmary full time, assuring them that nothing could be done. They couldn't argue, he was the god of madness.

Its a funny thing, watching another go insane. Annabeth had front row seats for the whole of it.

She'd planned for happily ever after.

Annabeth never planned for Percy to go insane.

* * *

_(Could insanity be a form of enlightenment?)_

Looking back, the whole thing happened very quickly. The ending of the war marked the end of their future, she was positive of it now. Percy wasn't going to get better, something had snapped.

Maybe it would have been better if they had died in battle.

About a week after they first got together, Percy became distant, he stopped showing up for most of the camp activities, even his beloved sword fighting. He would stare of into space during camp counselor meetings, not even pretending to be paying attention. She wrote it off as a fluke thing. _'Maybe he's not feeling well.'_

It got worse. Percy stopped showing up for meals. He missed meetings, missed classes he was supposed to teach. He didn't show up for dates they planned.

He was always pale, eyes baggy and tired. He gave off an aura of weariness, vulnerability. It reminded her of when he held the sky.

Maybe he was?

Three weeks after the battle, he had his first nightmare. Or maybe they were occurring the whole time and this was the first time he screamed.

He screamed and screamed, whooping and hollering out terrible cries of horror.

Nobody dared to believe anything serious was happening before that night. All in all, it didn't seem so serious. Miss some meetings or activities, act a little antisocial, its okay. You've been through a lot.

He was _Percy Jackson_. The best of them, no one dared to thnk that he was anything but perfect. Inside and out.

That first nightmare broke something in the camp. They had fought, they'd fought for their hero. For weeks, they held on tightly to the belief that everything would only get better. They fought for hope...

But none of them were ever as strong a fighter as Percy was...

Something broke, the others, they looked at Percy like a disease, a constant reminder of what war does to a man.

The screams continued, someone had to wake him every night.

He was their fallen idol. A war story.

_(He's a war hero. This is peace time)_

Hestia always loved Percy, and she must of looked out for him because his brother arrived at that crucial time.

With Robert, everything became possible again.

Percy got out of that cabin, spent less time at the beach. He went to swordfighting, ate dinner with his brother. He held hands with Annabeth, and apologized endlessly for how horrible he'd been to her.

Relieving it was, to see him smile again. A real, genuine smile. He put toy spiders in her architecture book, a prank with he Stoll brothers, and as much as it freaked her out...she was semi-happy.

Then, Hermes brought warning of a Hyperborean threat marching towards the camp and everything went to hell.

When Percy heard the news, he exploded.

Forty foot waves raged in Long Island Sound, a massive hurricane forming above them. The ground shaked, knocking everyone except Percy to the ground.

He ran. Bellowing cursed up to the gods. Strong winds whipped around the campers, terrifing the young ones.

_(Where's my peace! Where's my happiness! This is how heroes are repaid? Endless war?)_

The hurricane reached the mainland, the earthquake grew stronger. The wooden built cabins collapsed, and the Big House porch itself caved in.

This was power. This was rage. This was the strength of the ocean.

Percy gave everything he had, no restraints, no limitations.

The gods stayed silent.

When Percy finally ran out of energy, hours after the beginning, he collapsed.

For a whole week he slept in the infirmary, as close to death as ever before. Like she had when they were twelve, Annebeth nursed him back to health. But he was never the same after that , he never returned.

The screams were louder, and not even his brother could make him happy.

After about a week of...symptoms? they were used to, he shut himself out completely. Never leaving the cabin, starring into space all day, whispering to voices no one else could hear.

She sat with him everyday, but he did not even show he knew she was there. He was numb, not hearing or talking, eating when only absolutely necessary. The hallucinations were the worst. Its particularly horrifying to watch a person talk to people who aren't really there. Sometimes he fought, slashing with Riptide at invisible enemies, destroying his own home.

_(and one he'd fought so hard to protect)_

The camp betrayed him with their actions. Talking of him like a piece of property, extra baggage to carry around. _'He's scaring the little kids Annabeth! Nobody even wants him here. What good is a hollowed out hero.'_

She supposed that the remarks were truth. Percy was a shell of a man.

Still, she stayed with him, they'd been through too much, done to much for her to simply abandon him.

Funny, in the end, it was Percy's downfall and not hers that was her downfall.

_(Does that make her better than the legends)_

She stood up for him constantly, reminding the others how much Percy had done for them.

It was like talking to brick walls. All demigods desire glory, power, attention from their parents. Percy had always been the one to get all of the glory and honor without even trying. With him out of the way, the camp would need a new leader.

The obvious choice was Annabeth. But she refused to betray her friend.

They went down together, the camp spat on Annabeth. _'What good is a daughter of Athena who doesn't know when something's hopeless.' _

It was a power struggle. She'd never planned for this.

Her mind was always her greatest weapon, sharp and quick. She was a winner, a victor.

She watched Percy slash at an enemy that wasn't there. Screaming at monsters in his head to stop, stop.

Her mind was numb. And she'd never felt more defeated.

* * *

**Dionysus **

Mr. D is a rarity among gods. One of the few to have lived a demigod life before godhood.

So, in a way, Dionysus knew the demigod campers better than anyone. Related to them in a way that Chiron never could. He understood the expectations, the "duty." Just because they are half god, they aren't invincible.

That was the problem, the gods expect too much, to much of the young children. They take that word "half" and twist it so that if they achieve anything less than the greatness of Achilles they are failures.

Dionysus may not be particularly kind to the demigods, but you'd never seen him sending them to an early grave.

Mr. D, is largely underestimated by most everyone. No one fears the god of wine, and no one cares to realizes that he is the god of madness too. As repetitive as it sounds, he's not bluffing when he threatens to turn you into a dolphin, or cause your mind to collapse.

Though he feels just as weak as they all think him when he's shown Percy Jackson, a hero, reduced to insanity because of the gods loft expectations for him.

It hurts his head, looking into the young boys mind. That's never happened before, his domain cannot be blocked. And yet, when he looks into Percy's head, all he sees is chaos.

He doesn't like it, not at all. Something's wrong, seriously wrong.

He assures adamantly that Percy not be kept in the infirmary, that there is nothing to be done. In truth, he doesnt want to see the boy anymore. Ideas are shaping in his head, pieces of old legends piecing together.

He knows, or at least suspects, what will happen to Percy.

Figures, the Fates will never let this one stop saving the world.

Mr. D forgets names, purposely. Maybe, to remind demigods of their own inadequacy, or their short shelf life in the eyes of the gods.

Or perhaps, Dionysus cares. He relates, because he was once one of them. Maybe he mistakes their nameAs so it will be easier to forget them when their gone.

Although, he was not so mad, or so drunk, to think that anyone would ever forget Percy Jackson.

* * *

**Robert**

Fickle

adjective

1.

likely to change, especially due to caprice, irresolution, or instability; casually changeable

The sea is fickle.

The ocean...expansive, wild, uncontained. _Likely to change_.

Rare is the occasion where the ocean appears the same as it was the day before. And even more rare, for it to actually be as it appears.

The sea has many sides...

His mother was rich, well-to-do. Born into a rich family, with a rich daddy that left his precious daughter everything. She hadn't lifted a finger a day in her life.

He didn't know how she met Poseidon, or how she knew he was a god. It was only now, once he was made aware that the gods actually existed, did he realize that she wasn't as much of a loon as he'd previously thought.

He knew they only spent one night together, and he was never seen again.

After hearing what Percy's said about their father, and hearing what Percy's mother was like, his opinion was changed. Poseidon no longer seemed like one for one night stands.

But again, the sea has many sides.

He'd always hated his father, only slightly less than he hated his mother. The crazy bitch who was convinced she slept with a god and insisted on telling everyone all about it. He always told himself that if his father managed to convince his mother he was a god after only one night, he must have at least a few redeeming qualities.

After learning that his dad was in fact, indeed a god. He supposed he respected him.

Robert grew up rich. Silver spoon, best education money could buy. He prided himself on his intelligence, even more so now that he knew how rare it was in Poseidon children.

All his life, he was the best of the best. The winner. He was used to everyone kissing his as and looking up too him. Though he would never admit it to himself, he was a stuck up little rich brat who was so spoilt and pampered Aphrodite would be jealous.

He heard about Percy Jackson before he met him.

His satyr simply would not shut up about how great he was. _"Oh, he's the best! Saved the world every year since he was twelve. He's fought Titans and gods, and turned down immortality. What a guy...The whole camp idolizes him. And the best part! He's your brother."_

Long before he met Percy Jackson, the seeds of hate were planted in Roberts heart.

His heart sang with happiness when he met Percy, the pale, tired clearly depressed "legend." He watched Percy's entire persona change as he saw him, literally shaking demons off as his eyes lit up with pride and love. Robert glowed, _"This will be easy. I will not be known as Percy Jacksons brother. He will be know as mine." _

Never did he underestimate the other son of Poseidon, his feats were indeed formidable. Based on the limited knowledge he had of mythology.

He saw flashes of it, the power that the other talked about. As Percy's mind healed, it was apparent more and more. He saw that power, up close and personal, when Percy exploded in anger toward the gods. Percy was stronger than he was.

But Percy was a good person, and Robert was not.

He never feared the older boy, he respected power, but he knew Percy wasn't smart enough to compete with him. Annabeth was, but she was too concerned with the "insane" son of Poseidon.

He didn't do anything for awhile, sitting back as Percy worsened, allowing the other campers to become more comfortable with him and earning respect at the same time. He staged care and affection for Percy, from the very beginning.

He supposed some of I was real, he'd always been alone in the world. Without any attentive mother or father, and no siblings, it was comforting to finally have family.

But Robert wasn't used to not getting what he wanted. And he wanted to be better than Percy Jackson ever was.

His hate only increased a Percy screamed. He couldn't remember that last time he had a good nights rest. Always forced to play babysitter to that blubbering pile of has been.

He got away one afternoon, running into the forest for a few minute of alone time, where he could think.

Two figure approached him, bringing a proposition that met his interests perfectly. He had never been more afraid, but he promised them what they wanted. The camp needed to forget about Percy Jackson, or his stories would live forever.

That night, he kissed his brother goodnight. A final goodbye. Percy didn't even know he was there.

A few hours later, He met Fear and Terror at the borders of camp.

_(For thirty pieces of silver, Judas betrayed Jesus himself)_

Except this time...For a hundred golden drachmas, Robert betrayed the "greatest" hero to ever live.

Phobos' eyes glowed red with glee. A flash of light, and Percy was gone.


End file.
